A Study In School (A Teenlock fanfiction)
by GeekQueen305
Summary: Sherlock and John are teenagers, going to school... like normal teenagers, then stuff happens. Eventual Johnlock. This is my first fanfiction. I need to get better at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat at his desk, mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr. God, this site was addictive. He couldn't even remember how or when he'd come across it. It had just reached into his life and grabbed him, dragging him into the dark abyss of the fandom world, a world that was impossible to get out of, once you were in it. Sherlock didn't know why he was complaining, fandoms were amazing. He wouldn't want to stray from Tumblr, even if he could. He had a surprising amount of followers on tumblr. Who knew messing around online with a bunch of Doctor Who gifs could get you so many followers? Sherlock loved it. Tumblr was the only place he was really accepted for who he was. He guessed he must have found Tumblr when he was around thirteen or fourteen, but it felt like it had been part of his life forever. He couldn't imagine life without it. He scrolled some more, reblogging numerous things numerous times.

"Sherlock!" His mother was calling him from downstairs.

"I'm busy!" He yelled back.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and he minimized the tab, just as she walked into the room.

"Sherlock, tidy your room," she sighed.

"It's not messy," he said, "it's just... not tidy by your standards."

She sighed. "Sherlock," she said, "tidy your room, then we'll talk."

"I don't want to talk," he said.

"Well, I need to talk to you," she said, "I've been thinking about something for months now. I need to talk to you about it."

Sherlock sighed. "I told you, I'm busy."

"Busy with what? You're always on your laptop. What are you doing on it?"

"Homework," he lied.

"Okay," she obviously didn't believe him. "Once you've finished your homework, tidy your room, then come downstairs."

"Yeah, whatever," Sherlock said as she left the room. As soon as she was out of sight, he opened the tab again and carried on with his internetting.

After another hour of Tumblr, Sherlock managed to pull himself from the land of fandoms and tidied his room, tidying being shoving a bunch of his clothes and books under his bed and then giving up. He headed downstairs, meeting Mycroft on the stairs... unintentionally meeting Mycroft. He ignored his brother and walked downstairs, thoughts of Doctor Who still clouding his brain.

"How's Mary?" John's mum asked.

"Huh?" John hadn't been listening. "Oh, yeah, she's great."

His mother gave him a worried glance. "Are you sure, John?" She asked. "She hasn't been around for weeks. Is everything alright with her?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Everything's fine, mum."

"Okay," she said. "If you say so."

They sat in silence for a while and John had time to think. He and Mary had been dating for eight months. They'd never fought or anything. John had felt like everything had always been good between them. But, lately, Mary just hadn't seemed herself. John hadn't really seen her at all that week. She'd said she was too busy to spend time with John or that she had homework or some other excuse. John didn't believe it for one second. But he couldn't work out why she didn't want to spend time with him anymore.

"None of your friends have been over, either," she said. "I've never actually met any of your friends. Will you bring one over at some point?"

John nodded and gave her a fake smile. "Yeah, sure."

Once in his room, John locked the door, sat on his bed and sulked. What sixteen year old boy had no friends? What sixteen year old boy had a girlfriend who ignored him? What sixteen year old boy was alone all the time?

He angrily pulled out his phone and texted Mary.

"I haven't seen you in ages. Do you want to talk?"

She didn't reply.

Sherlock sat down in the chair opposite his mum. "What do you want?" He sighed.

"I wanted to talk to you. I hardly ever see you anymore," she said. "And there's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, slouching in the chair. "You're wasting my time."

"Sherlock," she said, "we're moving."

(Hi. This is the first fanfiction I've put online. I hope you enjoy it. It took me a long time to write this chapter. For weeks, I couldn't decide how to start. For all the Americans, I am British, so I'll be using the British words for things. Thanks for reading. It means a lot to me. See you soon in chapter two! -GeekQueen305)


	2. Chapter 2

John trudged into school. He wasn't sure how he felt. He had mixed emotions. Half of him wanted to see Mary, the other half of him didn't. What if she broke up with him? What if she didn't talk to him at all? He didn't know what to think.

He slid into his seat on the front row in form room and watched the door, waiting for Mary to enter. When she finally did, she walked past John, giving him a simple wave, and went to join the other girls at the back of the class. John felt angry. Mary usually sat next to him. He understood that she might want the company of other girls sometimes, but the two of them hadn't spoken in weeks.

He turned around in his seat and watched her chat and laugh with the girls. He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he couldn't help wondering if he was the subject of the conversation. He really hoped he wasn't. What if they were debating the best way to break up with him? Or who Mary should go out with after she'd dumped John? Or something else John-related?

He turned back to the front of the room. He saw his form tutor entering the room, followed by a boy. John watched him come into the room. The boy had dark curly hair and was dressed in black. The form tutor guided the boy to the front and cleared her throat.

"This is Sherlock," she said to the class when the noise had died down. "He just moved here. It's his first day."

"Obviously," John heard Sherlock mutter.

"So, Sherlock," she said, "where are you going to sit?"

"There's only one empty seat in the whole room," Sherlock said in a bored voice.

John looked around, then realised that Sherlock was talking about the seat next to him, Mary's old seat.

"Oh," the form tutor said. "Well, John, can you look after Sherlock?"

"I don't need looking after," Sherlock said, insulted.

"It's just temporary," she told him. "John can be your friend."

"I don't have friends," Sherlock said in as much disgust as a ten year-old in a sex education lesson.

The form tutor sighed. "Sherlock, he's just going to show you around for the first week or so, then you never have to talk to him again unless you want to."

Sherlock nodded and sat next to John without saying a word.

Everyone else in the room spent the rest of form time chatting, gossiping and laughing. Sherlock and John spent their time sitting there in an awkward silence. Sherlock didn't mind. If he had sat next to anyone else, they would have probably tried to engage him in conversation and that would not have ended well.

When the bell sounded, the form tutor told Sherlock and John to stay for a few minutes.

"Sherlock," she said, "you'll be following John around for the first few weeks. I'll give you a copy of John's timetable for now. You'll get your own when you've got to know the school. Do you understand?"

Sherlock nodded. "Whatever."

"Follow John, now," she said.

They left the room. Sherlock folded up the timetable and put it into his pocket.

"I'm John Watson," John said to him. "If we're stuck with each other for three weeks or something, we might as well get to know each other."

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said. "I would say 'nice to meet you', but I'm not sure yet."

"Well, at least you're honest," John said. Sherlock could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh.

Their first lesson was science. John took his usual seat next to another boy. Sherlock was seated next to a girl called Molly. She kept trying to talk to him, which was, of course, a crime against Sherlock-kind, so he tried to mostly give her yes or no answers to her questions.

"Are you new?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it here?"

"I don't know."

"I'm Molly. What's your name?"

"Sherlock."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

She glanced over at his TARDIS notepad. "Do you like Doctor Who?"

"Yes," he said, starting to gain interest in the conversation.

"Who's your favourite Doctor?"

"I can't choose."

They spent the whole lesson talking about Doctor Who and, to Sherlock's surprise, he actually enjoyed it.

John met Sherlock outside the classroom. Sherlock seemed surprised by this.

"It's break now," John said. "What do you want to do?"

Sherlock looked confused. "Don't you have friends to meet? Is that what normal people do?"

John sighed. "I'm not what you would call a 'normal' person," he said. "I don't have any friends."

"I don't either," Sherlock said. "I never did."

"Do you want to go to the library?" John asked. "Hardly anyone ever goes there. And if people are there, they don't bother you. I kind of got the impression you don't like people."

"Okay," Sherlock nodded, and they headed towards the school library.

(Okay. Yeah, I'm back already. That was chapter two. I'm sorry if it didn't match yesterday's quality. I wrote this chapter at 11pm, so yeah. Also, my friend said that the - thing was confusing, so I just wanted to make it clear that the - thing means there's a point of view change. I might post another chapter tomorrow. I don't know. Because Doctor Who is on tomorrow, so I might not be able to. And my house is for sale and someone's coming to look at it, and I might have homework. Oh my god, I'm so tired. Okay, I'm going. Bye. I may or may not see you tomorrow. -GeekQueen305)


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed and Sherlock and John were still hanging out together. Despite their differences, they both had one thing in common: their lack of friends. They thought it would be best if they kept going around together until they had a real reason not to. Sherlock kept saying things along the lines of "are you sure you want me around?" Or "I'm sure you can find someone more like you." John usually tried to ignore him when he said things like this.  
It was a Friday and they'd just eaten lunch. John had already given up trying to get Sherlock to eat a decent amount of food. They were heading to the library, where they'd been spending most of their time since Sherlock had joined the school. There were never many people there. The lack of people suited Sherlock.  
They sat on chairs in the corner of the library, like they usually did. John was trying to do his maths homework. Sherlock claimed to have done his, but John could see the unfinished sheet sticking out of his bag. He'd decided not to mention it.  
"Bored, John," Sherlock said, slumping down on his chair.  
"Welcome to school," John said, annoyed. Sherlock had been complaining about boredom all day and he was starting to get sick of it. "It is boring. Get used to it."  
Sherlock sighed. "Boring."  
"You can still talk to me while I'm doing this," John told him.  
"Can I ask you incredibly awkward personal questions to make you feel uncomfortable?"  
"If it keeps you from complaining about boredom."  
"Do you have a girlfriend? Is that what normal people have?" Sherlock asked.  
John put down his homework sheet. "Oh, crap. I haven't spoken to her in a month. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."  
Sherlock laughed. "She probably thinks she's been replaced."  
"This isn't funny," John told him. "We haven't spoken for a whole month. I am a terrible boyfriend."  
Sherlock shrugged. "Don't worry. If you keep ignoring her, she might even forget you exist."  
"If you're attempting to make me feel better," John said, "it isn't working."  
Sherlock was silent for a while. "Okay. But my advice is actually quite good. You should consider taking it." he stopped when he saw John's face. "Not good? Alright. I'll stop."  
"It's fine," John said. "I just haven't spoken to Mary for ages and she probably hates me."  
"Don't get attached, John," Sherlock sighed. "It's useless."  
John looked back at his homework again. "I can't be bothered to do this."  
"What do you want to do?" Sherlock asked.  
John sighed again. "I don't know."  
Sherlock stood up. "Alright, we're looking for something to do."  
John followed him out of the door.

After walking for a while, a while being five minutes, Sherlock had something to announce.

"I'm bored," Sherlock said. "This school is boring. No one ever dies."

John tried to hold back a laugh, and failed. "And people died at your old school, did they?" he asked.

Sherlock paused for a moment. "Only in my head."

"Only in your head," John muttered. "Of course."

They walked on for a bit, Sherlock occasionally muttering about his boredom, occasionally meaning every ten seconds and muttering being shouting "BORED!" at the top of his voice.

"BORED!" Sherlock yelled once again. "John I'm really-"

"Yes. Yes. I get it, Sherlock. You're bored." John said. "Can you please stop reminding me of your boredom? You're going to drive me insane."

Sherlock smirked. "You mean I haven't driven you insane yet? What happens when I _do_ drive you insane? Do you mind if I try it out?"

John sighed. "Do I mind if you try driving me insane? I don't bloody think so, Sherlock. Find someone else to drive insane."

They carried on walking. They eventually came across a bench and sat down.

"I don't understand how this is more interesting than the library, John," Sherlock said. "I'm still bored. What's interesting about this?"

John thought for a moment. "Well, there are people around," he said, watching the different groups of teenagers walk past, talking and laughing. "Does that make a difference?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment, then he spoke. "Yes. Yes it does." He started looking around at the people, muttering under his breath.

John rolled his eyes and looked away from his friend. He started thinking about Mary and why she might have been avoiding him. Then he started thinking about Sherlock and wondering what he might be doing. He was going to ask, but he didn't have to.

"John," Sherlock tugged on John's sleeve, trying to get his attention.

"Yes?" John turned to face him.

"Do you see those people over there?" Sherlock pointed to a girl and a boy talking to each other. They were too far away to hear.

"Yeah," John said.

"They're in our year. The girl has two younger sisters and an older brother. Her parents are divorced and she lives with her mother. The boy is an only child, but his mother is pregnant with a baby girl. He owns two? no three dogs and his grandmother owns a cat. He came to school from his grandparents' house this morning, but was obviously at his house before that." He took a breath. "The two of these people are best friends, and have been for a long time. I'd say at least five years. The girl fancies him and has done for some time, maybe two years. But he's gay and has a secret boyfriend, who is that boy over there who is looking at him. The boyfriend comes from a large family, but someone close to him has recently died. It could be his friend, parent or sibling, most likely one of his parents. He also..." He trailed off when he saw John staring at him. "What?"

"How do you know all that?" John asked. "How can you tell someone's mum or dad has died just by looking at them?"

"It's obvious, John. You just have to look. It's all there. You're just not looking hard enough."

"That's amazing," John said. "It's just… amazing. Absolutely amazing. Just-"

"If you say 'amazing' one more time, I will-" Sherlock was cut off by another voice.

"Oi, Watson! Who's the freak?"


	4. Chapter 4

John recognised the voice. He looked up. Sally Donovan was standing in front of the two boys, Anderson was not far behind her.

"Hi, Sally," John said. "How are you?"

She glared at him."Who's the freak?" she repeated, louder than before.

"He's not a freak," John said.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said. "I believe I'm the freak you're referring to. I'd say 'it's nice to meet you', but, unfortunately, it is not."

Donovan's head swivelled and she faced Sherlock. "I was talking to Watson, freak," she said.

"He's not a freak," John said again.

"If he's not a freak," said Donovan, "what is he?"

"High functioning sociopath," Sherlock said.

"A sociopath with friends?" Donovan turned to Sherlock again.

"A sociopath with _one_ friend," Sherlock said.

"He's not a freak," John said again. "He's a normal human being like the rest of us."

"Normal?" Donovan asked. "We heard him. We heard him saying all that stuff about those people he's never met. He's either a liar, a psychopath or a freak. Which one is it?"

"Neither," John said. "Sherlock's normal. Well, maybe not normal, but whatever. His deduction thing isn't freaky, it's amazing. He can know everything about a person just by looking at them. Have you ever met anyone else who can do that?"

"No," she said. "And the reason is that I don't want to. Who would want to? He's a freak."

John looked over to where Sherlock was sitting. He was gone.

"Who'd want to meet a freak like that?" she asked.

John got up. "I would," he said, and walked away to find Sherlock.

Sherlock wandered around the school, thinking.

 _I'm not a freak,_ he thought, _I'm not a psychopath. I'm not a liar. I'm not any of those. John doesn't think I'm any of those things. John's nice. John's kind. John understands._

He walked around some more, found a bench and sat down. He checked Tumblr and reblogged a few posts.

He was about to put his phone away, but he got a text: _John Watson is looking for you. Where are you, Sherlock? -MH_

"Mycroft," Sherlock sighed, before typing a reply: _Why can't you just let him find me? He's smart enough to do that. -SH_

Sherlock's phone started ringing. He sighed and picked it up. "For God's sake, Mycroft," he said. "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me where you are," Mycroft said.

"Why?"

"John Watson," Mycroft said.

"What about John Watson?" Sherlock asked.

"He's looking for you, Sherlock," he said.

"And he'll probably find me," Sherlock said. "He knows where to look."

"No, Sherlock, he doesn't," said Mycroft. "He's not like you and I. He's like everyone else; normal, ordinary, boring. It surprises me that you haven't got bored of him yet."

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm trying to get you to tell me where you are," Mycroft said. "Tell me or I'll ask mummy to confiscate your laptop."

"Do you honestly think that'll work?" Sherlock laughed.

"And your phone," Mycroft said. "For a month."

"You can't be serious," Sherlock groaned.

"No Tumblr, or fanfiction, or anything, for a month, Sherlock," Mycroft warned him.

Sherlock sighed. "I'm near the library, on a bench."

"Thank you," Mycroft said.

John walked around, looking for Sherlock. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed his disappearance. Sherlock was his only friend. How did he not notice him disappearing?

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from behind him. "Looking for Sherlock Holmes?"

John turned around to face an older boy. "How did you know?" he asked.

The boy smiled. "I just know things, John Watson."

 _Okay,_ John thought, _this is kind of creepy. He know my name._

"If you know so much, do you know where Sherlock is?" John asked, not expecting an answer.

"He's on a bench near the library," the boy said.

"Thanks," John started walking away.

"John," said the boy, "you're the only friend he's ever had. Please look after him."

John nodded before walking off to find Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

John walked on, trying to find his friend. "Bench near the library," he muttered under his breath so he wouldn't forget.

He turned a corner and saw Mary and her friends coming in his direction. He ducked behind a wall and listened to their conversation.

"Have you broken up with John yet?" one of them asked.

"No," said Mary. "Why?"

"Well, you two haven't really been talking to each other for a few weeks," the other girl said. "Well, months, really. He hasn't spoken to you for half a year. He's definitely ignoring you."

"You could ask him why he's ignoring you," said another.

"I've kind of been ignoring him, too," said Mary. "It's not all his fault."

"But most of it is," said another girl.

"I probably should break up with him," Mary said.

John stepped out from behind the wall. "Mary," he said. "What's this about?"

She looked shocked. "John. How long have you been standing there?"

"I heard it all, if that's what you're asking," he said, frowning.

Mary gestured for her friends to leave them alone. "So, you know what I'm going to say, then," she said after her friends had left.

John stared at her. "Just tell me one thing," he paused. "What did I ever do? I haven't done anything, that I know of, to make you not like me anymore. What did I do to make you ignore me for so long?"

Mary's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. Did I hear that right? _I_ was ignoring _you._ I think it was the other way around."

"You were the one not talking to me," John said.

"You were the one not giving me a reason to talk to you," Mary yelled.

"Oh, you need a reason now?" John asked, angrily. "You could have just come up to me at any moment and talked to me. That's what people do. They talk to each other. They don't ignore each other for so long that they don't like each other at all anymore. That's not what happens."

"It's not like you've been any better," Mary shouted. "You weren't talking to me at all and I thought you'd eventually come around and actually acknowledge my existence again, but then that Sherlock kid came along and-"

"This has nothing to do with Sherlock!" John yelled. "Keep Sherlock out of this. What does he have to do with us?"

"He has everything to do with us, John!" she shouted. "He's one of the main reasons for us not speaking."

"He is not!" John said. "It's not my fault that I have a friend."

"Please, John," Mary said.

"I'm listening," John sighed.

"Before Sherlock came along, we were already ignoring each other, and that was mainly my fault. But since Sherlock came along, we've been even more distant. I've been wanting to talk to you, but you were always with _him_ instead of _me._ You were giving him all your attention instead of me, your actual girlfriend. You walked past me so many times without noticing me at all. You were laughing with him, talking to him and you didn't even see me," she said. "You chose him over me and it doesn't matter if you're just friends-"

"We are just friends," John said. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "You still gave him your full attention and didn't talk to me at all."

John was speechless. He had no idea what to say, so he muttered, "Okay."

"Okay?" Mary asked. "That's all you've got?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe you."

"What did I do now?" John asked.

"It's not what you did, it's what you didn't do," she said. "I tell you you're ignoring me and going off with Sherlock Holmes all the time and you just say 'okay'. No 'I'm sorry'? No 'I'll try to be a better boyfriend'? Just 'Okay'."

"Sorry," John said. "I'll try to be a better boyfriend."

"Yes," Mary said. "You'll be a better boyfriend, but you won't be my boyfriend."

With that, she walked away, leaving John staring after her.

John stood there in shock for a few minutes before heading to the library.

Sherlock sat on the bench, browsing Tumblr again. He wondered where John was and considered looking for him, but went back to Tumblr.

He heard footsteps and looked up, seeing John walking towards him.

"Took you long enough," Sherlock said, putting his phone away.

"Why did you disappear?" John asked.

"I was bored," he said.

"And sitting here is less boring?"

"Now you're here, yes," Sherlock smiled.

"You're smiling," John said. "You don't usually do that."

"And you're not smiling," Sherlock said. "You don't usually do that."

"Oh, Mary broke up with me," John said. "My girlfriend, Mary. Well, she's not my girlfriend anymore, but… yeah. That happened, which is why I'm not smiling."

"Oh," Sherlock said. "Good. I thought it might have been something actually worth worrying about."

John stared at him for a moment, then started laughing. "You really are hopeless, aren't you?" John kept laughing and pulled Sherlock into a hug.

"What did I do?" Sherlock asked. "Why are you doing that?"  
John released him. "Because you're my friend, Sherlock. My best friend. My only friend."

"I'm your friend?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock," John said. "You're my friend."


	6. Chapter 6

John sat in his room at home, headphones on, listening to Panic! At the Disco and thinking about Sherlock. He had no idea why he was thinking about Sherlock. He knew why he was listening to Panic! At the Disco – because he liked the band. He did things because he liked doing them (like listening to music he liked), but if he applied that logic to Sherlock… he was thinking about Sherlock because he liked him.

"As a friend," John told himself out loud. "We're friends."

He listened to a few more songs before getting up from his chair, wandering aimlessly around his room for a while, then sitting back down, realising that he had nothing to do.

He sat down again, picking up a copy of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ , which he was reading for the fourth time. He opened the book and let himself fall into the wizarding world, forgetting the real world existed.

He'd almost finished the book when he heard his phone's familiar ringtone- the _Death Note_ opening theme. He stood up and picked up his phone.

"Yes?" he asked. "Who is this?"

"John," came Sherlock's voice. "It's me."

"Sherlock?" John yelled. "How the hell did you get this number?"

"I have my ways," Sherlock laughed.

"I'm sure you do," John sighed. "What did you want?"

"I'm bored."

"Well, I'm not," John said, slightly annoyed. "I was reading a book and I can't read and talk to you at the same time."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll distract me with whatever random crap you've got on your mind, won't you?" John said. "And that means I won't be able to concentrate on the book."

"Why don't you put the book down and talk to me instead?"

"Because it's Harry Potter!" John yelled. "Harry Potter is more important than friends."

"Fictional universes are better, aren't they?" Sherlock agreed. "Why am I talking to a real person when I could be watching Doctor Who?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?" John asked.

"Maybe."

"Okay," John said. "I'm going. Bye."

"No," Sherlock said. "I'm still bored."

"I thought you were going to watch Doctor Who," John said.

"I changed my mind," Sherlock said.

"But you said you'd rather watch Doctor Who than talk to me," John said.

"Maybe some real people are worth talking to," Sherlock said. "People like you, John."

"You're really not acting like yourself," John said. "Are you alright."

"Yes," Sherlock said, quickly. "Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem kind of… not Sherlock," John said. "It's weird. You're actually wanting to talk to an actual human."

"No, I'm not," Sherlock snapped. "I'm not developing emotions. I never will. Nothing can make me care about someone else. Nothing. Do you understand?"

"Yes," John said. "Okay. I understand. Sherlock Holmes doesn't care about anyone because human lives are boring and pointless and it's better to pretend you're not human than accept that you have feelings and emotions. Of course I understand, Sherlock. I understand that you don't want me around. You don't have friends. You don't need friends. You want to be alone. You need to be alone. And you don't need, or want, me."

John slammed the phone down onto his desk and walked over to his bed, sitting down.

He pulled his legs into his chest and silently cried.

"And you don't need, or want, me." Sherlock brought the phone down from his ear and kept it in his hand for a while, thinking about what John had said. He then gently placed it on his desk next to his laptop, sat on his chair and logged on to Tumblr.

He tried to distract himself from everything by staring into the dark abyss of the internet, but it didn't really work.

He found himself staring into space, mind blank. He aimlessly wandered around his room a few times, only to find himself sitting back down at his laptop.

It was what seemed like an endless cycle until Mycroft walked into the room.

"Do you know how to knock?" Sherlock asked, stopping halfway through his seventh circle of the room and sitting down on his bed.

"You were pacing," Mycroft said, sitting down next to him. "Which is never good with you, Sherlock."

"What do you know?" Sherlock frowned.

"I'm your brother," Mycroft said. "I know you."

"No one really knows me, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "I only know myself and I only need myself."

"That's the point," Mycroft said. "You only need yourself, but you let John Watson get close to you and he broke your heart."

"He didn't break my heart, Mycroft," Sherlock said. "We just had a little argument. He can't break my heart if I don't have one."

"You do have a heart, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "We both do. We just pretend we don't because we don't want other people to hurt us. We act bitter towards everyone we meet, or just don't talk to them, because we're afraid of them getting to close and then hurting us. We both have feelings and emotions, Sherlock. We just keep them hidden."

The Holmes brothers were both silent for a few minutes Sherlock thinking about how right his brother was.

"And what evidence do you have to prove that I have emotions?" Sherlock asked.

"My evidence," Mycroft said, "is how much you cried when David Tennant regenerated."


	7. Chapter 7

"JOHN!" John's mum yelled from downstairs. "GET UP! IT'S TIME FOR SCHOOL!"

John rolled over in bed and sighed. There was no way he was going to school.

Not with no one to talk to.

He wasn't going.

Not until Sherlock apologised.

But Sherlock's apology was something that didn't have a high chance of happening/ It was about as likely as Sherlock dying and coming back from the dead. But, knowing Sherlock, he could probably pull that off.

"JOHN!" his mother shouted again, coming upstairs this time and opening John's bedroom door. "I TOLD YOU TO GET UP! YOU'VE GOT TO GO TO SCHOOL!"

"I'm not going," John mumbled into his pillow.

"What?" she asked."I didn't hear you."

John rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not going."

"What?" she folded her arms.

"Not going," he said.

"Why not?"

"Reasons."

She sighed before heading out of the door again. She lingered in the doorway for a while. "I'm sending your sister up," she said.

"Don't care," he said. "I'm not going."

A few minutes later, John heard footsteps on the stairs again, heavier and louder this time. The footsteps stopped and the door burst open, pushed against the wall with great force.

"JOHN HAMISH WATSON, GET OUT OF BED NOW!" Harry yelled at her brother.

"No," he said. "I already told mum I'm not going."

"Well, I'm not mum," Harry said. "Get up now."

"No."

"I said now."

"And I said no."

Harry groaned in annoyance. "Get out of bed, you irritating piece of shit," she said through gritted teeth, "or else."

"Or else what?" John asked.

"Or else..." Harry was silent for a moment, thinking. "Or else… Or else… something. I'll think of something."

"Wow," John rolled his eyes, "I'm so scared."

"You will be," Harry growled. "Was that sarcasm?"

John rolled his eyes again. "Yes, dumbass," John said. "Now, tell me. How long until you piss off?"

"Oh, shut up, Johnny boy," Harry said. John cringed at the nickname.

"Just leave me alone, Harry," John said. "I hate you."

"Is that any way to talk to your big sister?" she asked.

"Shut up, Harry," John said. "I'm sixteen, not six. I'm practically an adult. You can't tell me what to do."

Harry laughed. "John, you are the _furthest_ thing from an adult I have ever seen. And I'm still older."

John rolled over. "Don't care. Go away."

Harry sighed and sat down on a chair in John's room. "So," she said, "I heard you shouting yesterday. What was that about?"

John froze. His argument with Sherlock. He didn't realise anyone would have heard him. _Stupid,_ he told himself, _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of course people heard._

"It was nothing," he lied.

"Was it Mary?" Harry asked. "Did you finally break up with her?"

"No," John said. "I mean, we _have_ have broken up, but that was in person. And I wasn't on the phone with her."

"Oh," Harry said. "Okay."

"Did you say 'finally'?" John asked, sitting up.

"So, who _were_ you on the phone with?"

"'FINALLY'?"

"Well, she clearly wasn't right for you," Harry shrugged. "You two barely spoke."

"That's because she has friends," John said.

"No, I think it was because she didn't like you," Harry said. "But I don't blame her. Who would like you?"

John sighed. "No one."

"Correct answer," Harry said. "So, who were you on the phone with?"

"That's none of your business," John said.

"Do I know her?"

"It's not a her," John said.

"Really?" Harry asked. "A boy?"

John nodded. "But not like that."

"Like what?"

"Like what you're thinking," John said.

"Do I know him, then?" Harry asked.

"Probably not."

"How old is he?"

"My age."

"Is he fifteen or sixteen?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I do."

"I don't know."

Harry laughed. "How long have you known him?"

"About two months, maybe three. Four? I don't know."

"So, he's your friend?"

"He was," John said. "Now he isn't."

"Why?"

"We fell out."

"What about?" Harry asked.

John thought for a moment. "I don't actually know." He started laughing. "That is so fucking stupid."

"Mum wouldn't approve of you using that language."

"I don't give a shit."

"Mind your fucking language."

"No."

"Okay, then." A smile broke out on Harry's face and she started laughing.

"Did I just make you laugh?" John asked. "Oh, my God."

"I know," Harry said. "Please don't do it again. It was a traumatic experience."

"In all sixteen years of my life, that is the one thing I haven't done," John said.

"Actually, little brother, I can think of a lot of things that you haven't done."

"Please don't."

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

John didn't show up at school. Sherlock was waiting for him to burst through the door, late as usual, but it didn't happen.

Sherlock spent most of the day wandering around school alone. He skipped some lessons because he needed time to himself, time to think about what he'd done to make John angry.

All Sherlock had done was express his personality and who he really was. He didn't like talking to other humans, but he had found himself talking to John Watson. He usually preferred texting to phone calls, but he'd wanted to hear John's voice.

Mycroft, of course, had found out John's phone number. Sherlock felt slightly ashamed that he hadn't found that out himself. He'd lost to his older brother. Sherlock didn't like losing. Especially not to Mycroft. But if he didn't mention that he saw it as a competition, it didn't count.

When Sherlock arrived back home that afternoon, he immediately sank into the sofa and turned on Netflix. He chose an episode of Doctor Who, one with the Tenth Doctor.

After one episode, he clicked on the next one, then the next, then the next. He found himself in a trance, staring at the television, unable to tear his eyes from the screen.

Somehow The Doctor's adventures became more important than reality and school and John Watson.

Of course, that wouldn't be the first time that happened. It had happened many times before Sherlock met John. The only difference was that this time, Sherlock had something he needed to distract himself from.

And that something was named John Watson.

John had stayed off school all day. Harry had eventually let him. And she'd told their mother that he felt sick.

It was getting later and the Watson siblings were eating tea. They'd just gathered whatever food they could find since neither of them had any idea how to cook and their mother was at work.

"So, what's this bloke like?" Harry asked, her mouth full of food.

John swallowed his food. "Who? Sherlock?"

"Finally I get a name!" she said triumphantly. "What's he like?"

"Smart," John said. He paused. "Actually, that's an understatement. He's a genius."

"Convince me."

"He can tell everything about a person just by looking at them."

"Really?" she asked. "Or is he just guessing?"

"If he is, they're very good guesses."

"Anything else?"

"He's socially inept," John said. "in a sort of likeable way."

"Hm."

"And he seems to hate the world. He thinks humans are stupid. But he puts up with me for some reason."

"I have no idea why he'd put up with you, of all people," Harry said. "Are you going to tell me more about him?"

"He's sometimes funny," John said. "But that's usually when he doesn't realise what he said is funny. He's very easy to get mad at and he doesn't handle emotions well. He tries to stay emotionless. He can be kind of mean at times. I don't know whether he notices what he's doing but he seems to think he's superior to everyone else and we're all idiots. But that makes him strangely likeable. Do you know what I mean?"

"Not really," Harry shrugged. "But I'm glad you're happy."

"I'm not really happy," John said. "We fell out, remember?" He paused, acknowledging what his sister had said. "Were you just nice to me?"

"No," she said, immediately. "That was not niceness. It was some form of sisterly extreme dislike for you and annoyance at your pathetic existance. But it came out weirdly. It was not me being nice. It's nothing to worry about. I still hate your guts."

"Good to know," John smiled.

"You can't Doctor Who your life away, Sherlock," Mycroft said from behind Sherlock.

"That sentence doesn't make sense, Mycroft," Sherlock said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Now, shut up and clear off. The Doctor has to fight these daleks."

Mycroft sat down next to Sherlock. "You've seen this episode five times, Sherlock. Why do you need to watch it again?"

"Seven times," Sherlock said.

"You counted?"

"I remembered."

Both the Holmes brothers were silent for a while, until Sherlock spoke.

"Where's mum?" he asked.

"She took Redbeard for a walk," Mycroft said, "which is usually your responsibility, Sherlock. She said she'd better not disturb you while you were in… this state."

"State?" Sherlock asked. "What state?"

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, she can tell something's wrong with you. We all can."

"I'm fine," Sherlock said. "Perfectly fine. Why are you all being so dramatic? This is normal for me."

"No, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "This _used_ to be normal for you. Then you met John Watson."

"You're bringing John into this now?" Sherlock asked, starting to get angry. "John has nothing to do with this. I'm absolutely fine."

"Well, you're clearly not."

"I clearly am. There is nothing wrong with me! Nothing at all!" Sherlock was silent for a moment, then spoke again, slightly calmer. "You made me miss part of the episode."

Just over half an hour later, Sherlock's mum came back. Mycroft opened the door to let his mother in. Redbeard raced towards Sherlock as soon as he was let off the lead. Redbeard leaped up onto Sherlock's lap. Sherlock gently stroked the dog's head, still intently watching Doctor Who.

"Get the dog off the furniture, Sherlock," his mum sighed. "You know he isn't allowed up there."

Sherlock shrugged. "He doesn't mind."

"I mind," she said.

"I don't."

She groaned and turned to her eldest son. "Mycroft, get the dog off the sofa. Please."

Mycroft tried to get Redbeard to budge, but it didn't work. The dog was too comfortable.

"Oh, what a shame," Sherlock said. "It looks like he'll just have to watch Doctor Who with me."

The next morning, Sherlock woke up in the same place he'd been when he fell asleep: the sofa. He'd fallen asleep there, watching Doctor Who. Mycroft had put Redbeard to bed before he himself went upstairs to get some sleep. He'd told Sherlock to actually sleep, too.

Sherlock checked the time. Six am. He'd woken up early. He got up and tiptoed upstairs to his room, changing into his pyjamas and getting into bed. He did his best to make it look like he'd been there all night. He tried to get to sleep again, but it didn't work. He got out his phone and checked Tumblr. He had gained a few new followers overnight. He reblogged some stuff.

Someone knocked on his door.

"What?" he yelled.

Mycroft entered. "In bed, are we?"

"I am, you aren't."

"For how long have you been in bed? Answer honestly."

"All night, of course."

"Honestly, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "I can tell when you're lying."

"About half an hour," he said. "But I managed to get two hours of sleep."

Mycroft sighed. "Still having trouble sleeping?"

"What are you talking about? That's the most sleep I've had in ages."

"It's not enough, Sherlock. Try and get some now." Mycroft left the room.

John rolled out of bed in the morning. He ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, had a quick shower and got dressed.

"You ready?" his mum asked him. "Feeling better?"

"Yep," John said. He turned around to his sister. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye," she said.

John walked out of the door and sat down in the passenger seat of his mum's car.

The car set off and he stared out of the window, thinking.

He sat still all the way, not speaking, and braced himself for the day ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

John got out of the car and walked into school. He thought about Sherlock, about how different things would be. Maybe he and Sherlock would both revert back to how it was before Sherlock joined the school. Maybe they'd both end up with no friends again, just like before.

The thing about Sherlock was that no one could ever truly understand him. It was just the way he was. And John liked that about him.

John sat down at his seat. Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

The teacher started taking the register. John wasn't paying attention to any of the names.

"Is Sherlock here today?" she asked the class. "Has anyone seen Sherlock?"

The class was silent, John avoiding eye contact.

"John's probably seen him," came Mary's voice from the back of the room.

John turned around just as Mary turned away and started talking to one of her friends.

"Have you seen Sherlock, John?" his teacher asked.

John turned back to face her. "No."

"That's a change," Mary commented.

John looked down at his desk.

A few minutes later, he heard the door open. He looked up. Sherlock came into the room. He had bags under his eyes and looked tired. His eyes darted around the room, obviously looking for a seat that wasn't next to John. When he found none, he sat down at his desk, trying to avoid looking at John.

"Sherlock, you're late," said the teacher.

"Like I didn't already know that," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why are you late?" she asked.

"My brother's an idiot."

"You could at least say sorry, Sherlock," she said. "That's the polite thing to do, not call your brother an idiot."

"I'm not really the apology type," Sherlock said, bored.

"Just say sorry," she said.

"I'm sorry your husband left you," Sherlock said, looking away.

"What?"

"Don't try to deny it. It's obvious."

"I don't think you can talk to me like that, Sherlock."

"I think I can." Sherlock said, "Freedom of speech."

"I don't have time for this," she sighed. "Just don't talk to me."

"Gladly."

After a short moment of silence, the classroom erupted in chatter. Everyone was talking. Except Sherlock and John.

Sherlock was obviously trying to avoid even glancing at John.

After a while, John decided to try to make conversation. "So, did you miss me yesterday?"

Sherlock turned around, his eyes fixed on John's. Sherlock's facial expression was an intimidating combination of anger and annoyance, eyes full of frustration, looking only at John.

John held Sherlock's stare, not wanting to be the first to look away. Instead he inched his head slightly closer to Sherlock's, so only the two of them could hear what he was saying.

"What?" John asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Sherlock remained silent, his eyes narrowing.

"You can't stay silent forever," John whispered, getting angrier. "You hate this. I can tell. Can't we just make up and be friends again? That's the easy option. We don't have to fight. Or ignore each other. Or whatever the hell you're doing."

Sherlock's gaze softened for a moment, like he was considering it. But his eyes quickly returned to their previous cold state.

Sherlock leaned in closer, his eyes focused on John's the whole time.

John could feel his cheeks burning. He wasn't used to being this close to Sherlock. John knew that, to anyone else in the room, it probably looked like Sherlock was going to kiss him. John would probably think that was what Sherlock was going to do, too, if he didn't know how much Sherlock hated him in this moment. John was aware that people were now watching and that Mary was probably among that number of people. But he didn't really care. He only cared about Sherlock and becoming his friend again.

Their faces were as close as they could physically get without touching. John was getting more and more flustered every second.

Sherlock tilted the chair he was sitting on so he was nose to nose with John, who was now furiously blushing. Sherlock's eyes were still full of anger.

John stared nervously into Sherlock's eyes, thinking, _I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm-_

Sherlock's eyes seemed to get even angrier. John had no idea what he was going to do. Sherlock was always so unpredictable.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, glaring at John, still looking straight into his eyes. He somehow leaned in even closer. John was sure Sherlock was going to kiss him. There seemed to be no other explanation.

But there apparently was another explanation because Sherlock didn't kiss him.

Instead, he stared at John, his eyes like daggers.

"No," Sherlock said, the same angry expression on his face.

He then broke eye contact with John and leaned back in his chair.

John was about to ask what he was saying no to, then realized it was an answer to his question: " _Can't we just make up and be friends again?_ "

Sherlock didn't want to be friends. That was it. John could no longer call Sherlock his friend.

Sherlock sat in the library at lunch. He'd skipped all his classes so far and he wasn't planning on eating anything or even leaving the library at all. The risk of seeing John was too high.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, put on his headphones and listened to the perfection that was My Chemical Romance.

"You're not going to eat anything today, are you?" Sherlock heard John's voice and looked up. Sherlock had to force himself not to smile. He was happy to see John, but he knew he couldn't let that show.

"Why do you care?" Sherlock asked, turning away.

"Because I'm your friend," John said, "or I used to be. I still want to be. You seem to have other ideas, though."

Sherlock was silent. He just glanced at his phone to see which song was next.

"What are you listening to?" John asked.

"My Chemical Romance," Sherlock said.

John's eyes widened. "You listen to My Chemical Romance?"

"Well, that's what I just said," Sherlock said. "They're my favourite band."

They were both silent for a while.

John finally spoke. "Sherlock, I really want to be friends with you again. I'm sorry. Can you please forgive me?"

Sherlock looked up at John. He looked into his eyes. He could tell that John was being honest.

He stood up. "I suppose so," he smiled at John. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Let's go, then," Sherlock said, heading out of the library, John following him.


End file.
